


Confession

by Ryu_Reikai_Akuma



Series: The Rather Unusual and Possibly Lengthy Courtship [9]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Dwalin is the best bro in Middle Earth, Implied handjob, M/M, Uncle-Nephew Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 13:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1306894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryu_Reikai_Akuma/pseuds/Ryu_Reikai_Akuma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having grown up and fought side by side with Thorin for many decades, Dwalin was confident he knew his best friend well. Thorin's relationship with Kili, however, brought to Dwalin's attention a side of the king he didn't previously know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confession

**Author's Note:**

> This one takes place right after my first ever Hobbit fic, [Properly](http://archiveofourown.org/works/962106), but can be read separately (I think). As usual, any form distraction from work is welcome in [my tumblr](http://demonessryu.tumblr.com).

Dwalin looked at Thorin with narrowed eyes. The king hadn’t realized his presence yet, despite Dwalin’s not-so-quiet entrance into his house. Thorin’s attention was still locked on the piece of paper he was writing on. His furrowed eyebrows indicated that it was a matter of difficult nature, but the occasional satisfied smirks showed that he was enjoying himself. Dwalin arched an eyebrow.

“What are you doing?”

Thorin didn’t jump. Kings didn’t do something as undignified as jumping in shock, Balin’s voice said in Dwalin’s mind. Instead, Thorin merely tensed and paused before turning on his seat and regarding his friend calmly.

“Dwalin,” He greeted.

Being a trained warrior and a good friend, Dwalin didn’t miss the way Thorin moved the paper away and covered it with his arm. Curiosity piqued, he grunted as he rested his axes against the wall near the door. The sharp edges were still wet with some blood of the warg he had successfully hunted and killed. He was in Thorin’s house to report on the mission but his friend’s sudden secrecy drew his interest more. Dwalin approached the desk, growing more curious as the king hid his writing further.

“What’s that you’re writing?” He asked, trying to read the paper. Balin would chide him for being rude to their king, but Balin wasn’t here, and when in private Thorin wasn’t Dwalin’s king. He was a childhood friend and there was no place for cold strict formality between friends.

Thorin cleared his throat. “Nothing of importance. How was the hunt?”

Dwalin motioned to his axes, his eyes still locked on the paper. “We found the warg in the East while it rested in a cave. It put up a good fight but I managed to kill it.” He still couldn’t read all of it, not with Thorin’s arm resolutely in the way, but he managed to read a few words that he had heard spoken by younger dwarfs who aspired to be war heroes who returned to unimaginable riches, glory, and loving embrace of the most desirable dwarfs on the land. Words not usually associated with Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain, hero of Azanulbizar battle, one of the most composed and occasionally prudish dwarfs Dwalin knew. “You’re writing a love letter,” Dwalin stated with one eyebrow raised incredulously.

“A letter,” Thorin corrected, looking away to hastily put away the letter in under the stacks of paper on his desk.

“A letter containing phrases which would put Dori’s suitors to shame,” Dwalin retorted. He sat down heavily on a chair by the desk, the piece of furniture creaking under his weight. He ignored it to smirk at his rather flustered friend. “I never knew you were capable of that.”

“Of what exactly?” Thorin asked with a glare. His tone and cold gaze could make lesser dwarfs cower, but Dwalin had walked beside him when they fled Erebor and stood beside him at the gate of Moria. He wouldn’t be easily intimidated.

Thorin lifted his chin proudly, clearly prepared to receive mockery and answer them with insults. Dwalin glanced at the stack of papers hiding the letter and the smudges of ink on Thorin’s arm and fingers, features so out of place in the prim-looking king. Thorin could wear the humblest outfits and made them seem fit for a ruler. He could shear his beard and still gained respect and admiration when other dwarfs would hide in mortification. He could forego jewelries and still looked like a king of a prosperous kingdom. Being the King under the Mountain was in Thorin’s blood-no dragon or betrayal of elves could change that-and it showed clearly in his appearance and actions. These smudges of ink, this evidence of carelessness, however, had no place in the dwarf Dwalin knew, served, and admired. Few could affect him so that he would for a moment forget himself and his position as a respected dwarf lord.

“Of being a dedicated lover,” Dwalin replied.

The hard expression on Thorin’s face softened. He looked away to the hidden letter. “He deserves no less than that,” He said quietly but firmly.

Dwalin nodded in agreement, “Kili is a fine lad. A little reckless,” Dwalin said, frowning as he recalled just a few days ago when Kili accidentally fell when practicing with a sword, nearly decapitating himself. The lad had laughed at his own clumsiness, but Dwalin and Fili had found it far less amusing. “But he’s still young.”

Thorin’s expression turned dark then. “Indeed he is.”

Dwalin frowned. “Don’t tell me you think he’s too young for you.”

“I don’t think he’s too young for me. He _is_ too young for me.”

Dwalin leaned back on his chair, studying his friend. It wasn’t entirely correct to say that Thorin looked frustrated by his helplessness then. Dwalin had seen been Thorin’s companion for many decades and he could tell with utmost confidence that the king never once seemed vulnerable. He was always strong, even in the face of adversity. He was constantly aware of his role as a leader, as someone an entire kingdom looked up to. He never had any place for weakness in his public life.

In private, Dwalin had been there when they were resting from their aimless wandering in search of a new home. He had been there Thror, along with hundreds of their relatives, friends, and neighbors, died. He had been there when Thrain was announced to be missing, leaving Thorin the current leader of Ered Luin. Dwalin had seen grief and ghosts from the past in Thorin’s eyes, but he never saw helplessness. Yet, that moment, it was the closest thing to fear and frustration that Dwalin had ever seen, and he wasn’t sure how to act. His previous lovers had called him a brute, a heartless warrior, and he agreed with them. Balin had always been cleverer with words and sympathy, Dwalin’s specialties were his strength and single-minded ruthlessness in battles. Right now, Thorin wasn’t in need of a guard; he was in need of a friend and confidant. Dwalin would be lying if he was confident he had the capability of being one.

“If that bothers you then you should’ve waited until he comes of age. That would’ve solved some of the problems,” Dwalin grunted. He knew at the moment the words left his mouth that they could hurt instead of comfort but he didn’t know how to comfort with words, how to lie with sweet fantasies. He and Thorin were raised in harsh reality. He knew how to find solutions, but not how to cure sentimentality.

Thorin sent him a glare and had Dwalin had any illusion that Thorin had been softened by Kili’s charms, he would have been assured that his friend was still the proud and strong-willed dwarf he knew. “If I could choose when to ask for permission for my courtship, I would. And I had wanted to, if you would remember.”

Dwalin nodded. Indeed Thorin had wanted to wait, albeit not without strong longing and stolen one-sided moments he simply couldn’t let slip. They had never spoken of it in so many words, but Dwalin knew Thorin had done everything in his power to restrain himself. Thorin could be patient when he wanted to be and he had intended to wait until Kili was older. The lad’s relentless suitors had made it impossible to keep that resolve, however. Dwalin remembered quite vividly the look Thorin sent to those whose approach Kili, those who were welcomed but wasn’t encouraged and those whom the archer firmly rejected, especially because at one time Dwalin himself had been the recipient of that dark look. He still didn’t understand how Thorin thought that he could be interested in the male sex when the king had seen him drunkenly flirting and returning home with lasses from taverns. But he would be lying if he said Thorin was the brightest dwarf in Middle Earth.

“Nothing to be done with it now. And the lad will always be younger than you. No sort of magic could change that. The least you could do now is to wait until he _truly_ comes of age to…” He trailed off as a flicker of emotion crossed Thorin’s expression. The king tried to behave as if nothing was amiss, but Dwalin knew what he had seen: guilt. “You didn’t wait,” He said in disbelieve.

“I am waiting,” Thorin insisted.

“No, you aren’t,” Dwalin said with a frown. Thorin had raised quite a ruckus when he started to court Kili due to their age difference. While it was now a common and accepted knowledge that Kili would occasionally spend private unsupervised time in Thorin’s house, it was generally believed that nothing untoward had happened if only because Kili still acted as naively as he always had. But, if it became known that something had happened when the lad was barely an adult Dwalin didn’t want to imagine the kind of damage would occur on Thorin’s reputation as a king. “Just a few more months, Thorin! Couldn’t you have waited?” Dwalin exclaimed in exasperation.

“I _am_ waiting!” Thorin roared. He took a deep breath when he realized what he had done and looked away. “I just… I am not as pure in our courtship as I hoped.”

Dwalin knew he was intruding something very private. This wasn’t something to share, no matter how close two people were. And, truly, he didn’t wish to know intimate details of Thorin’s relationship. Yes, they had gone to taverns and pleasure houses when they were young, but they had always had silent understanding that what happened behind closed doors should never be spoken. Yet, as Thorin’s guard and shield brother, he must know anything which potentially brought danger to Thorin’s authority. “What did you do?”

Thorin frowned, clearly reluctant to discuss the matter. “We kept our clothes on,” He said vaguely.

“Many things could be done with your clothes on,” Dwalin said, recalling many experiences in the past when he simply couldn’t be bothered to unlace the dresses of the pretty dwarfs he left the taverns with.

“I only let him touch me for a moment. I didn’t even let him finish me, nor did I finish him.” Thorin admitted begrudgingly. He drew himself to his full height as he glared at Dwalin, daring him to criticize his slip of control. Even sitting down he looked intimidating. Dwalin reminded himself to speak more carefully.

Thorin and Kili together in bed was an image Dwalin would rather not have in his mind, so he asked another question to replace it with more neutral thought not directly related to the idea of Thorin tangling with his student, “Does anyone know?”

“No one. Just you,” Thorin answered.

Dwalin nodded. “I must let Balin know nevertheless. Kili will come of age in a few of months but before then this could mean disaster.”

Exhaling quietly, resigned to the precautionary measure, Thorin answered, “I know. I do intend to wait. For everything.”

“Everything?” Dwalin echoed, dumbfounded.

“Kili deserves better than this,” Thorin replied. He didn’t explain himself further but Dwalin knew precisely what he meant: the common blacksmith, the small lodge, the old rickety furniture, the king without a kingdom. Three of those issues could be remedied easily and indeed steps had been taken to that direction. The last one however…

“Then…”

“When we reclaim Erebor I will give him what he deserves, everything he wants, everything he could dream of.” Thorin answered the unasked question, determination gleaming in his eyes.

Logic (and, thus, Balin) would question how he intended to do so. Many had tried and failed, Thrain included. Thorin was a great warrior and a just king, but were those characteristics enough to reclaim the home they had lost? Wouldn’t it be better to settle in their new home instead of risking everything for past glory?

Yet Dwalin believed him. Reclaiming Erebor wasn’t a matter of ‘if’ with Thorin. It was a matter of when. Thorin would lead them to march to the tall gate and take back what was rightfully theirs. They would defeat the dragon and return Erebor to its former glory. Thorin would be a king with a great kingdom under his reign and a crown upon his head. He would sit upon a throne with his heir on his left, and his consort on his right. These would all happen. It was only a matter of time.

“Then both of you will have it,” Dwalin said with a smirk which widened when Thorin answered with his own. “I best be leaving now. I need to clean my weapons and Balin should know as soon as possible.”

Thorin nodded to him. He didn’t say thank you, but Dwalin could read it in his smile and relaxed posture. The warrior picked up with axes and paused just before opening the door. When he turned back, Thorin was preparing another paper, perhaps to replace the one he had ruined in his attempt to hide it from Dwalin. He hid his laugh behind a small cough. Balin would be so proud of him.

“Kili could be impatient,” Dwalin said as both a warning and a teasing.

Thorin glanced at him then back to the paper before him. To less observant dwarfs he seemed as composed as he always was, but Dwalin didn’t miss the gentle curve of his lips and crinkles on the corner of his eyes.

“I know.”

This time Dwalin didn’t try to hold back. There was ‘good luck’ in his laughter as he left Thorin’s house. Balin might not be so pleased when he heard the news, but Dwalin would change his mind (chamomile tea from Dori’s shop always helped). Thorin would have what he wished for. He would defeat the dragon, reclaim Erebor, and give Kili what they had both been waiting for. Dwalin would make sure of it.


End file.
